


A Sale Offer

by madwriter223



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Puppies, hellhound puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwriter223/pseuds/madwriter223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has an offer for the Winchesters they can't refuse. Even though they want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sale Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Written many years ago. ^_^ Again an older fic.

When Dean heard knocking on their motel room door, he honestly hadn't expected to open the door to _Crowley_. Or, more precisely, open the door to Crowley who was holding a basket laid out with white lacy material. And with red bows on it too.

“Morning, Winchester.” the demon said, marching himself past Dean and into the room. Sam frowned at him from above his computer, and Crowley nodded his hello at him. “Moose.”

“What do you want, Crowley?” Dean demanded, closing the door.

“Straight to business. I like that.” Crowley said, cocking his head in a... suggestive manner.

Sam frowned uncomfortably and shifted his chair back slightly.

“What's with the basket?” Dean asked, moving to stand in front of the demon.

Crowley gave him what could only be described as a 'how-on-Earth-can-you-be-so-dense-you-bloody-idiot look. “This basket,” he said slowly, shifting his hold on said basket slightly. “Is the reason I'm here.”

Dean started to nod his head then aborted the action. “I don't follow.”

Crowley sighed in a distinctive why-me manner. “I'm here to make a sale.”

“You're not getting our souls!” Sam hissed, moving to his feet.

Crowley eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “You know, Moose, you should have someone take a look at those trust issues of yours.”

Sam huffed, his nostrils flaring like a race-horse's.

Crowley smirked pleasantly at him. “Or better yet, why don't you take a run in the woods, work out that anger of yours. Just don't get your antlers stuck in any branches.”

“Ha. Ha. You know what else would be funny? Me nailing you to the floor.” As soon as what he'd said registered in his mind, Sam started flailing to take the words back. “I mean-”

“Why, Samuel!” Crowley grinned toothily, looking far too smug. “I never knew you had it in you!”

“Shut up! I meant nail you with _real_ nails!” Sam's voice got rather high by the end.

“Sure you did.” Crowley smiled insincerely.

“So you're here to make a sale.” Dean interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.

“Yes, I am.” Crowley said, turning back to him.

When the demon said nothing else, Dean prompted with a wave of his hand. “And what exactly are you selling?”

“These little tykes.” Crowley said, indicating the basket again.

Dean looked at the item, then back at Crowley. “You're selling baskets?” he asked slowly, cause _seriously_.

“No, I'm selling what's _in_ the basket.” The unspoken 'you dimwit' was loud and clear.

Sam craned his head to see inside. “I don't see anything.”

Crowley gave him a condescending look. “That's because you're blind, but I won't hold it against you.”

“Thanks.” The unspoken 'you dick' was loud and clear.

“So what _is_ in the basket?” Dean asked giving Sam a pointed look.

“Well, it's a long and gory story, so I'll just give you the short version: a few weeks ago, my beloved hellhound, Juliet-”

Dean snorted. “Juliet?”

“Don't interrupt, Dean, it's terribly rude.”

Dean threw his arms in the air in frustration. “Just get to the point!”

“And here I thought you enjoyed my company.” The demon pouted at them. Fucking pouted.

“Think again.” Dean scowled.

“I'll be sure to. Back to the story: my beloved Demelza has had puppies. They are finally weaned off of her blood, so I've been going around, looking for good homes for the little ones.”

Dean stared at the basket, eyes so wide he felt like he was gonna pop something in a moment. “You've got hellpuppies in there?!” He exclaimed, and he did not sound like a six year old girl, thank you.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Finally, the light _dawns_.”

“Huh?”Sam got up and edged closed to the bed where their bags were. He was itching for his knife.

“If you need someone to explain metaphors to you, you don't deserve to know.” Crowley said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Why would we want hellhound pups?!” Dean demanded, still not sounding like a girl, keep that in mind.

Crowley snorted. “ _A_ pup, I hardly think you'll be able to handle two.”

The brothers stared at him.

“As for your question, I assumed a hellhound would come in handy around those little hunts you like so much.” Crowley lifted the basket higher and grinned brightly in invitation.

Dean wanted to demand Crowley take those pups and do something unseemly to himself, but he had to admit having a hellhound on their side might come in handy. But they knew nothing about hellhounds. What do they even eat? And where would it sleep, in the car? The backseat should fit a grown hellhound, it was big enough to fit Sammy- Why was he even thinking about this?! “We don't want any!”

“Are you trying to tell me you never wanted a dog?” Crowley looked at him sceptically, not believing him in the least.

Okay, the demon had him there. “Fine, but I always assumed it'd be a dog I could actually _see_!”

In response, Crowley took a little bright red collar out of his pocket. The collar had a bell on it.

“A bell? Seriously, that's your answer?” Sam made a disbelieving expression.

“So we can hear it as it creeps up on us to rip our throats out?” Dean asked with a scowl.

“Don't be a child.. It's so you can hear where it is in the room. It also has an inbuilt GPS, in case you lose the little bundle of cuteness.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “I see you're not denying the whole 'ripping out our throats as we sleep' thing.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Oh, please.” he grabbed an invisible something from the basket and pushed it in Dean's reluctant hands.

The puppy (at least that's what it felt like) started wriggling and yipping loudly at being taken out of its comfortable basket. And Dean? Dean found himself holding something really warm, round, and strangely fluffy-feeling. He felt it sniffing at his hands, then a rough tongue started licking all over his fingers.

“Does that seem like something vicious to you?” Crowley asked pointedly.

Yeah, okay. They could probably keep it. Seemed friendly enough.

“What's it doing?” Sam asked, standing behind his brother and peering over his shoulder.

“From what I can tell, slobbering all over me.” Dean replied, grimacing slightly.

“The viciousness kicks in during training. Don't train it to attack humans and it won't.” Crowley explained helpfully. “Just feed it fresh meat, preferably bloody, keep it warm at night and let in roll around in a lit fireplace once in a while, and you'll be fine.”

Dean had to be crazy to be doing this, but. “How much?”

“For you, Dean?” There was a devilish glint in Crowley's eyes, one the Winchesters didn't like one bit. “Your first-born.”

Dean pursed his lips and his face reddened. Sam's too, for that matter.

Crowley grinned and shrugged. “But considering she's already too old for any use in the rituals I have planned, the pup's yours for free. You still want it?”

“I have a daughter?” Dean's voice was oddly weak, like he was about to pass out.

“Among many. I'll just take that as a yes. Here.” He grabbed the invisible pup in Dean's arms and slipped the collar over its head. “The program for the GPS is already in your computer, Moose, hope you don't mind.”

Sam blinked once, hard. “Wait. Is it at least potty-trained?”

“It knows to go outside for its business.” Crowley said, shifting the basket in his arms again. “Though I advice keeping a fire extinguisher close by. It pisses hellfire.” And with that, Crowley and basket were gone.


End file.
